Quiet in the Library
by GarryxMrChairFan
Summary: He was just there for some textbooks for his research paper; why was he being stared at like that? Stupid, annoying git. USUK Human!Gakuen!AU; Most likely OOC. Pure fluff.


**_Quiet In The Library_  
**

~GarryxMrChairFan :3

**Customary Disclaimer: **Any and all recognizable _Hetalia: Axis Powers _characters (c) Himaruya Hidekaz.

Inspired by cover image (not mine).

* * *

_Bloody hell. _

If the git kept staring at him with that stupid smile on his face, he was going to pass out from too much blood rushing to his brain. Arthur Kirkland frowned across the room at the hyperactive American, attempting futilely to keep the blush off his face and his heart rate below a frantic _thump_ing.

The American in question – one Alfred F. Jones – was only the notorious school flirt, the terribly clichéd blond-haired, blue-eyed star of all the sports teams, a mouthwatering six-feet-four-inches of flawless sun-kissed skin over toned muscles and a charming smile that rivaled the sun in its brightness; he was the dream of every teenage girl to have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on his person.

Well, them and the pompous stick-in-the-mud Briton, that is.

When Arthur had moved from England to America – a decision he was still to this day questioning as being smart on his parents' part – and had first laid his green eyes on the American, he'd been captivated; Alfred's irises were a shocking shade of azure that seemed to have been pulled from the cloudless summer sky itself, encased enticingly by delicate frames and fringed by wild golden locks, with a single cowlick that seemed determined to prove that it was indeed possible to defy gravity. Arthur couldn't help thoughts of how soft his hair would feel from running through his head, of being lucky enough to be the one to stare endlessly into those cerulean pools.

Quite pathetic of an upstanding gentleman like himself, really.

Unfortunately, the Brit was on the other end of the spectrum: with his haughty personality, habit of snapping harshly at anyone who dared approach him in any way other than academic, and less-than-attractive appearance what with his unique brows, most people tended to avoid him. Not that he minded being a loner, but consequently he was a bit awkward when it came to social interaction, making it even less appealing for him to, well, _interact. _Plus, it wasn't like the school all-star would ever want to have anything to do with the foreign outcast nerd.

Arthur glowered at his inner thoughts, huffing in frustration as he moved into another aisle and out of the blond's line of sight, the stack of textbooks in his hands steadily growing. The library was his sanctuary of sorts, a simple refuge from the teasing he received on a daily basis from a group known as the Bad Touch Trio and a place where he could think and relax, which is what he'd been doing before the American wanker had walked in and turned his sky-colored gaze on him.

The saddest part was that the Brit had never even _spoken _to the American. They had a few classes together, sure, but never once had the self-claimed "hero" ever come up and introduced himself, and Arthur sure as hell never initiated conversation. The only reason he even knew the American's name was because he was _Alfred F. Jones. _

And one did not simply _not _know who Alfred F. fucking Jones was.

Sighing deeply, Arthur scanned the shelves, perusing absentmindedly while he was lost in thought about his teenage girl fantasies. Looking down at the end of the row, he saw golden blond hair with the stray curl and deep blue eyes looking over books before turning and meeting his gaze, holding it in place for a full minute before Arthur felt himself flush scarlet, grimacing and turning on his heel and finding another row. He saw out of the corner of his eye the American git walk out of the aisle and into another one away from the one he'd picked and he couldn't help the pout that crossed his features.

He continued looking through the books, removing ones that seemed interesting and flipping through a few of the pages before either setting them on his growing pile or replacing them in their respective spots on the shelves. He wasn't sure why he was so intent on avoiding the American, nor why he had a problem with him in the first place; the guy was charming, altruistic, drop-dead gorgeous, and just altogether a soothing presence. _Everyone _would kill to be looked at with those shining baby blues; why did Arthur have to be so weird about him?

The Brit moved around the library, meandering down yet another row. The stack of texts he had with him was now about knee-high when set on the ground, and it was starting to strain his arms. _One more, _he decided, running his free arm along the spines of the tomes, searching for one to go along with all the others. He had about fourteen with him currently to read through for his research paper; admittedly, that did seem a bit much and was definitely more than the three print sources he needed, but he wanted to be thorough and he didn't trust the internet quite as much as the average student.

Plus, he was always in need of more reading material.

Finally settling on one, Arthur reached for it, sliding his finger along the top and pulling gently, causing it to fall off the shelf to catch. At the same time on the opposite side of the shelf, books were being pulled away and revealing a bright smiling face, with shimmering crystal orbs framed with thin glasses and bordered with unkempt golden hair. Arthur froze.

The smile grew wider. "Hey, cutie," the American chirped happily, causing the Brit's blush to return full-force. "Why are you so intent on avoiding me?"

Arthur's mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. He was caught off-guard by the sweet musical tenor tones of the American's voice. _God, that's got to be the sexiest bloody sound in the world. _Shaking the thought from his mind, he managed to contort his expression into a grimace of annoyance and stutter out, "I-I'm not avoiding you, git."

The blond chuckled good-naturedly. "Could've fooled me," he said, tilting his head, smile still in place. "What's your name? 'M Alfred F. Jones, hero!" He gave a salute, and Arthur was pretty sure he could see a billowing cape behind him.

The Brit rolled his eyes, but answered reluctantly, his gentleman upbringing refusing to let him simply walk away. "Arthur Kirkland, annoyed." He set the book he'd grabbed on top of all his others, turning to head out of the aisle. Sadly, he had to walk past the aisle the wanker was in, so the blond simply turned and grabbed him.

The American pouted as he tugged Arthur into the aisle with a yelp from the Brit, though his eyes continued to sparkle with humor. "Aw, you're no fun, Artie! I'm just trying to be nice, like a hero would!"

An insistent "Shh!" came from their left, an eagle-eyed librarian giving them a once-over before moving on.

Arthur stopped in his struggle and turned to face Alfred, raising one of his unnaturally large eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Alfred stopped, waiting for him to elaborate, which he didn't. "What? I'm trying to be nice?"

"What did you call me?"

Alfred frowned. "You mean 'Artie'?" His smile returned. "It's a nickname! 'Arthur' seems so old and stuff."

Arthur glared, though it wasn't quite as harsh as he would've liked due to how easily he got lost in the American's irises. "So does 'Alfred'." He finally pulled out of the blond's strong grip, leaning back against the shelves, berating himself for not being able to come up with anything more scathing.

"Hey!" the American shouted, pouting. "That's not very nice!"

The librarian came around the corner again right at that moment, glaring daggers at the duo. "Shh!" she hissed. "This is a library! Be quiet or leave." She turned and continued on her rounds.

The Brit glared at the American. "See what you did?!" he whisper-shouted. "Now we're on her list, you bloody git!"

Alfred simply chuckled. "I like your accent," he commented, shoving his hands in the pockets of his well-worn brown bomber jacket. "It's cute, Iggy."

Arthur huffed, adjusting his hold on the stack of texts in his arms and blushing furiously. "Another nickname? Really?" He shook his head. "I have a name for a reason."

"But the nicknames are so much better!" he protested, smile huge.

Arthur chose to ignore him – or, _try _to – and turned to leave the aisle, simply to be grabbed once again and turned to face Alfred, said American grabbing half of the texts in his arms. "What are you doing?"

Alfred smiled. "C'mon, dude!" he said. "I'm a hero, and it's a hero's job to help common citizens such as yourself!"

Arthur groaned aloud. "And if I don't want your help?"

The American just grinned. "Too bad!"

Arthur huffed again. "Why are you even bothering?" he asked suddenly, looking up at the blond.

Alfred paused, giving him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the Brit clarified with a bite, feeling his heart speed up slightly, "why are you bothering to be nice to me? We've never spoken to each other before, we've hardly made eye contact for more than a few seconds before today." He took a breath, looking away and noticing his voice had gone soft. "You're on a different level than I am. You're popular, loved, someone everyone wants to be friends with." He looked up into those shining blue eyes. "Why would you want to talk to a nobody like me?"

Alfred stood silent for a minute before a soft grin spread on his face. "Because you're someone I admire," he stated simply, shrugging. "I always see you working hard, putting all your effort into your studies and going towards making something of yourself." He set the stack of books he held down on the ground, taking the rest in Arthur's arms and setting them on top before straightening up and facing the Englishman. "Plus," he added with a giggle, "you're really cute. That never hurts."

Arthur blushed harder and looked away with a pout, feeling like one of Alfred's many fangirls. God, he was so pathetic. He felt the American moving closer and instinctively backed up, finding himself pressed back into shelves, the blond towering over his shorter stature. He felt a warm hand under his chin, coaxing his face up to look at the thin-framed deep azure orbs and sunlight smile.

"I've seen how you look at me," the American continued.

Arthur turned his eyes downward, trying to avoid that piercing gaze. "A-And how exactly do I look at you, git?"

Another chuckle. "Like every teenage girl that's ever looked at me. But you wanna know something?"

Arthur swallowed and looked back up, seeing a tender smile in place of the usual over-the-top grin. "What?"

The American leaned closer, their noses almost touching. "You're the only one I've ever looked back at." And he closed the distance between them.

Arthur melted. Alfred's lips were soft and malleable, pressing insistently against his and moving in a sweet dance. His breath caught in his throat and all his synapses shut down, the only awareness he had being of the fresh smell of the American's musk and the interesting mixture of coffee, some sort of greasy fast-food, and mint gum on his mouth. He groaned in his throat, pushing back against the taller teen, reaching up to grasp the lapels of the well-worn bomber jacket. He felt the American's tongue drag across his bottom lip suggestively and immediately opened his mouth, savoring the dance-like battle for dominance before the burning in his lungs tore them apart.

Panting lightly, blush hot on his face, Arthur buried it in Alfred's toned chest, breathing in deeply the smell of the American's cologne. He could feel Alfred's arms encircling his waist, holding him tightly, and chin resting on his head.

"You're a really good kisser, Artie," Alfred said, rubbing circles into the small of his back.

Arthur pushed back and smacked him upside the head, frowning in embarrassment at the comment. "Sh-Shut up, git!" he squeaked indignantly before burying his face back in the fabric of the bomber jacket.

Alfred laughed. "Quiet, Artie," he scolded good-naturedly. "This _is _a library, after all."

Arthur pulled back and glared, still red-faced. "You're one to talk." They stood silently for a moment before the Brit leaned down to pick up his books, handing some to the American before walking to the checkout counter.

Waiting for all the books to be checked, Alfred snaked an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him close and resting his head on the Brit's. "So, can I hang out with you today?"

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips. "I suppose that'll be alright, love," he said, reddening once again at the absentminded use of the term of endearment. Sometimes being British was tiresome. "D-Don't read too much into that," he muttered when he felt Alfred stiffen slightly at the word. "Just a reflexive term of endearment; like you bloody Americans and your use of the term 'bro'."

Alfred was silent for a minute before, "So you don't love me?" Arthur could hear the adorable pout in his voice.

Arthur chuckled and leaned his head against the American's shoulder. "That's for me to know and you to find out, love."

"Aw, love you, too, Iggy!"

The shout was met with a chorus of "Shh!"s and several death glares from the librarians. Sighing once again, Arthur gathered his books and turned on his heel, looking back at the sheepishly apologizing American with a mischievous smirk. "C'mon, you git," he called, heading for the exit. "Let's go to my house." He chuckled a second time at the look of unbridled happiness in the blue eyes he was so lost in. He winked suggestively as Alfred held the door for him.

"I'm tired of being quiet in the library."

_END_


End file.
